Iron Butterfly Mask
by pinkbubbles.s
Summary: Having been pushed towards the fireplace by Harry escaping a mere inches from the flashed of green light of Avada Kedavra, Hermione should have landed in Beauxbatons— and she did! But not exactly when she expected it. Is this a disguise blessing or a unfortunate accident? [DHr (darkHermione). Tomione. Read&Review.]
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Harry Potter or any character I may use as the story progress. As all other fanfiction writters, the universe and characters are all borrowed from the author of the said book, J.K. Rowling. Other information are credited to Pottermore as well as other potter-wikipedia.

 **Warning:** Use of Explicit Language and sexual Connotation is depicted throughout the story.

* * *

 ** _CHAPTER ONE:_**

 ** _Exodus._**

* * *

 **May 03, 1998. Hogwarts Castle, Scotland, Great Britain**

* * *

Hermione pushed herself up to a stand, dusting her pants and shirt in the process. Wincing, she held her left shoulder with her right hand, feeling the blood-soaked sleeves as she wobbled her way through the rubble. 'Death— _fucking_ —eaters', she inwardly cursed.

"Scourgify." Barely cleaning her bloodied clothes, she huffed and shrugged, strutting her way towards the Great Hall.

Just as she was about to round a corner, someone grabbed her forearm and jerked her backwards. Dirty hands gripped her mouth and stifled her gasp. Her back pressed roughly against the stone wall, eyes shut tight, as she struggled frantically against her captor's grasp.

"Shh, shh…" The captor whispered to her, "… it's me, Mione". She could feel his breathe warming her cheeks. Hermione stopped, opening and adjusting her eyes to the darkness of the corner, a familiar silhouette outlining itself.

"Harry!" she hissed as she pulled the black-haired boy in a tight hug. Moving back, she eyed her friend, his school robes covered in dust and dirt, his glasses broken, and his hands gripped tightly around his phoenix wand. A distressed look hovered over his exhausted face as he watched the corridor for suspicious movement. "Where's Ron?"

She blinked, tensing under his gaze. "I don't know. I lost him. We we're running from a death eater then a spell hit us and then I blacked out. By the time, I woke up, he wasn't there anymore." She gulped, ignoring his tight grip on her shoulders. Harry curse under his breath.

"Harry?" she asked, cupping his face with her hands. "Have you seen him?"

Harry nodded his head. "What happened to Ron?"

Harry looked at her; his eyes darken at every second that passed as he pulled away from her touched. Hermione panicked, "We got to find Ron." Pushing her way through Harry's form.

"Harry move. We got to find Ron." But he didn't budge, hanging his head low. Hermione looked at him stricken, "Fucking get the hell out of the way, Potter!" she shrieked banging her fist onto him, but he didn't moved.

"I can't let you Hermione. There nothing we can do." He whispered through gritted teeth.

She shook her head furiously as tears started forming, blurring her vision. She couldn't believe it.

It was just mere moments ago that they were running around the castle grounds, hands entwined as they fired spell after spell to the Death Eater gaining on them. It was two against one, but she and Ron were overwhelmed. As they turned a corner, Hermione found herself flung across the hall, letting Ron's hand slip from her fingers. She felt her back make contact on the stone floor and her head slam on a pile of rubble before losing consciousness.

Now she was awake, with her forehead bleeding from a cut, her forearm aching from a curse, and her body exhausted, with no Ron in sight. Harry turned away; his hand clasped on her. He scanned the empty hall way. "Come on." He hissed pulling her with him.

"Where are we—", she stopped herself in mid sentence and stared at the familiar corridors leading towards the Headmaster's office.

Stopping at the foot of the eagle statue, muttering the password, they hurried to enter the headmaster's office. Harry muttered a locking charm as he closed the door behind him. Hermione stumbled back, steadying herself as she scanned the once glorious office of _Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_. Ever since his death, it had been left untouched. Those silly trinkets he kept still laid in display had dust accumulating, evidence that no one had dared touch his things.

Picture frames that held previous headmasters of Hogwarts hung empty against the walls and oddly enough, Hermione missed their senile chatters and bickers. Hermione glanced at Harry, he was scanning the shelf in a hurry. Letting him be, she stared back at the empty frames, noting the names of the previous headmasters. At the end frame, Hermione narrowed her eyes at Albus' portrait—occupied, apparently—gleaming at her with his usual twinkle.

Hermione hated it… hated him.

She glared at him. The moment she laid her honey-colored eyes on him, she felt a hollow darkness growing inside her. All those years of fighting, suffering, and witnessing death, Hermione blamed it mostly on one man—not just Voldemort, definitely not just him. No. She blamed her ill sentiments to the man, whose portrait hung proudly in front of her.

Hermione balled her fist in frustration. She has been a fool. Ironically, Malfoy was right. She was stupid, naïve to think that the manipulative twinkling-eyed bastard did what he did for the 'greater good'.

She gritted her teeth, fighting the beautiful muggle foul language threatening to leave her bruised, cut lips. She tore her gaze from the portrait and stared blankly at the frantic boy who was busy taking things from the headmaster's office and stuffing it into her beaded bag.

She eyed him. He gleamed with determination, courage, and pride like a true son of Gryffindor; it made Hermione proud to be his best friend. Harry had suffered so much. His parents were dead long before. He didn't even know them. She couldn't understand why Dumbledore had done it. He could have kept Harry, trained him to better prepare him for the war he was destined fight. But no, he didn't. He gave him to muggles who didn't bloody feed him properly.

And as if that wasn't enough; he had to place Harry, barely eleven at that time, to face a dark lord, who haunted the wizarding world for 50 damn years numerous time through his years in Hogwarts. He would have died if it wasn't for Hermione's help. Even so, it was supposed to be his responsibility, not some puberty-phased children who lacked the better sense of what was dangerous or not.

But then again, Albus and all adult living wizards should have known better than to place their hopes on one boy. She felt wet tears sliding down her cheeks and slowly she succumbed to quiet sobs. Hermione couldn't believe it. 'We are going die. A pitiful, wasteful, and useless death.'

Harry stopped abruptly, startled as he observed her. The level-headed, proud Gryffindor princess, who paraded herself in front of purebloods with a triumphant smirk whenever she had bested them at Hogwarts, had finally crumbled. Her cool composure washed away as the realization of their dire situation finally settled in.

Harry felt the familiar wave of guilt overwhelmed him. He dropped the beaded bag beside him, and gently approached the girl, embracing her.

"Hermione." He muttered into her ears in a whisper, tightening his grip around her. Her knees quivered, leaning her weight into his body as she held onto him for dear life.

"I'm sorry. It's my fault."

She pulled back, wiping the tears away as she looked at him in pure disbelief and sadness.

"You're wrong!" she explained, shaking her head furiously. "Harry, it is not your fault." She held his both his hands gently into hers as she looked deep into his eyes. "In fact…" she trailed her eyes away from him, glaring at their previous headmaster's portrait. "… it's that bastard's fault." She spat with much venom, as she glared at him.

Pushing her away, he shook his head in disdain. "What are you saying?" he muttered through gritted teeth. "How could you accuse Dumbledore, who has protected us all this years?!"

"What do you mean 'protected us'? Harry, he was the one person who could stop Voldemort and his band of lunatics! But look what he did? The crazy old man killed himself!" She glared at him, her hands trembling at her side. He looked at her like she was crazy.

"Come on, Harry. Like you didn't questioned it for a second." She stared at him, crossing her arms.

"Listen to yourself, Hermione. You're just thinking stuff that doesn't make sense. We were invaded by death eaters because of Malfoy plus Snape killed him! I've seen him do it with my own eyes! The same person Dumbledore trusted."

"Are you listening to yourself, Harry? Dumbledore was the most powerful wizard in our time. How could a mere potion master kill a grand sorcerer, Harry? How! Dumbledore can take ten death eaters down without as much as a scratch on him."

"Bullshit!" Harry glared at her, "Dumbledore is not invincible, Hermione."

Hermione, sighed. "But he was powerful enough, Harry."

"You know, he has a very weird sense of 'greater good'." Hermione muttered in a matter-of-fact tone, with her hands up making air quotations.

"Hermione, even if you think Dumbledore is a manipulative bastard—as you so quote," Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "... it doesn't change the fact that stopping Voldemort is something not me, but all of us siding in the Light should do." Harry explained as he started stuffing things inside her beaded bag again.

Hermione glared at him, as she snatched her beaded bag from his hands roughly. He startled from the sudden movement and looked at her perplexed.

"Will you stop stuffing things in my purse!" she huffed, slapping his hands as he tried to reach and grab it back. "What the bloody hell are you packing things for anyway?"

"I'm sending you to Beauxbatons or anywhere safe for that matter," Harry said, grabbing a weird trinket Dumbledore displayed on one of his bookshelves. "I heard, Voldemort hasn't overtaken the French Ministry yet, but it will give you enough time to plan out your next steps."

Hermione looked at him, astonished. "You can't seriously be thinking this." He shrugged in response, ignoring Hermione who slumped back into one of the leather chairs, her mind lost in thought.

She stared back at him, he was checking some vial in Dumbledore's personal potion cupboard. She narrowed her eyes at the back of his head, wishing she could read his mind. She always wondered why Harry was so hell-bent on killing his arch-nemesis. Besides the fact he was prophesied to and the fact that he was the one who killed Harry's parents, the war was officially over when Voldemort took full control of Hogwarts. In the end, the dark side had won.

Hermione knew how bad Voldemort was, but looking it at a new perspective; they lost the war and Harry, her, and other Order members (who survived and were in hiding) were at the top of Voldemort's death list. Shouldn't they have been trying to hide? Laying low for the mean time?

No.

But Harry was intent on killing Voldemort, going as far as begging the French Ministry to lend him some Aurors. It's not that Hermione was giving up, in fact she wanted nothing more than to go back to a world where Voldemort didn't exist. But both she and Harry were inexperienced compared to Voldemort's fifty-seven years of dark arts and battle-exposure. In a duel, Voldemort would most certainly kill both of them.

Alas, Hermione was tired, emotionally, physically, and mentally exhausted. She wanted to go back to being a muggle, escaped the Wizarding World for a change, but there was nothing left for her. Her parents were dead. Everyone she knew and loved were dead except Harry. All she had left is Harry. Harry is now the only reason that Hermione was doing her best to survive.

Sometimes when she is lost in her thoughts, she thought of Voldemort, why was he doing this, what his goals... She wasn't a Horcrux or anything—Merlin, no! But because she feel likes she understood how Voldemort's mind worked. How he came to decide the choices he made or things he did. Because in some ironic ways, Voldemort was as intelligent, ambitious, and curious as Hermione is.

She knew Voldemort wasn't really aiming to be the anti-muggle supremacist. No. Voldemort's mind ran deeper than shallow ambitions. He wanted something grand, something he believed he was worthy of. He wanted to be the most powerful Wizard of all time. And more so, his beliefs strengthened when he learned that he was Salazar Slytherin's heir.

Voldemort's thirst for power grew in his time as a student, his belief that knowledge was power made Voldemort desperate to learn everything. To Tom Riddle, there was no such thing as good and bad magic. _There is no good and evil, only power and those too weak to seek it._

But as the Wizarding world grew, Tom aged more. And the truth is, no matter how much Voldemort read books, his life was too short. It scared him. He thought that by the time society acknowledged him, death would claim him and everything he had learned and accumulated would turn to waste. Voldemort dreaded it. That's why he was so obsessed with immortality.

Thinking about it, Voldemort, in a more human perspective, just wanted to belong, to fit in, to be recognized. He was deprived most of his life and that fueled his ambition. Voldemort reminded her of herself. Always trying to fit in, to belong, and to be recognized. The whole mudblood cover-up was merely a means to an end. Purebloods were his stepping stone to power.

Hermione snapped out of her thoughts when she saw Harry approaching her.

She arched her brow at him. "Here," he said, handing her a piece of parchment. "It's a map to the palace. Ask for Madame Maxime, she'll help you, I'm sure."

"I'm not going to that French Academy. I'm not leaving you behind." She huffed, trying to shove back the parchments into Harry's hands.

"Hermione," He exclaimed, "I'm already a dead man and I'm not willing to gamble your life with me. You're all I got and the only one I have faith in bringing the bastard to hell. But first I have to ensure you are safe and Beauxbatons is the safest place I know. They have a special Fidelius Charm, neither magic nor muggles can find it." He look at her, clasping her hands in his,

She slumped back on her chair, looking distressed. She understood Harry's need for her safety. Hermione was the only thing he has left. But Hermione wasn't the type to sit still and watch. She made things happen.

"I'm not going." She said defiantly.

"You are."

Harry looked at her as if he was making her promise to him. Hermione couldn't let him down. She nodded her head hesitantly and Harry squeezed her hand in return.

A sound of stone rattling startled both of them. A bead of sweat fell from Hermione's forehead and Harry absently mindedly gulped. Shoving the beaded purse in Hermione's hands, he dragged her towards the fireplace. As Harry was frantically searching for Floo powder, Hermione's eyes darted towards the door. She jumped at the sound of a click, and slowly it swung open.

Hermione's back stiffened, she gripped her wand to her side as she stared at glaring crimson eyes. Harry stood slowly, his eyes fixed on the snake-like face with red eyes in the doorway, an evil smirk gracing its monstrous features.

"I've been looking for you." He hissed, his evil smirk grew as Harry tensed.

"Hermione, no matter what…"

Voldemort's spidery fingers gently held the Elder Wand up, pointing. " _Avada…_ "

"… don't come after me."

" _… Kedavra._ "

As if in slow motion, throwing black colored Floo powder, Harry pushed Hermione into a blazing black flame, swallowing her whole. Hermione's fading screams echoed through the tower as a green light sped towards Harry before everything zoomed past her.

A familiar tight squeeze feeling enveloped her before darkness claimed her.


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Harry Potter or any character I may use as the story progress. As all other fanfiction writters, the universe and characters are all borrowed from the author of the said book, J.K. Rowling. Other information are credited to Pottermore as well as other potter-wikipedia.

 **Warning:** Use of Explicit Language and sexual Connotation is depicted throughout the story.

* * *

 ** _CHAPTER TWO:_**

 ** _The Iron Butterfly Mask._**

* * *

 **Part 1**

 **June 03. Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, France**

* * *

Hermione shifted her body closer to the soft, feather-filled pillow where her body embraced it. She could feel the sun grazing her skin and she sighed against the wind that blew against her back. Her eyes fluttered open slowly as she resolved to wake up after realizing sleep could no longer hold her.

She sat up and stretched her upper body, rubbing her eyes all the same. Her sleepy eyes scanned the room, the ceilings were built high with chandeliers dangling and sparkling. The windows were adorned with blue silk and purpled-laced curtains and the glass shone quite polished. The marbled white floor glistened from the light, newly waxed and mopped. She looked at her bedside table, gently cupping the glass of water before downing its contents.

She stiffened.

Her eyes blinked rapidly as her surroundings finally dawn at her. She shrieked. She heard a hurried shoe-tap, as a medi-witch appeared from behind her purple screened partition.

" _Oh, c'est bien que tu es éveillé_." **Oh, it's good that you're awake**. Hermione blinked at her. Her ascent made Hermione sigh. For a fleeting moment she had thought that Voldemort had caught her. " _Attends un moment, je vais appeler la directrice pour toi_." **Wait for a moment, I shall call the Headmistress for you**.

Although Hermione didn't quite understand what she said, she could pick out some French words that she knew just enough to tell her that the medi-witch was calling the Headmistress.

" _Oui, s'il vous plaît et merci._ " **Yes, please and thank you**. She said it with her mock French accent due to constantly conversing with Fleur during her wedding.

It wasn't long when a petite woman wearing blue, silk, sparkling robes stood at the foot of her posh hospital bed. She stood in a snotty and dignified way, her makeup so heavy that she looked as if she was glaring or scowling at everyone.

"Here, drink it." She spoke in French as she stretched out her perfectly long fingers, holding a vial filled with a red silk-like liquid. "It's a healing potion."

Hermione raised her brow, wondering if something else was mixed in it, but drank it nonetheless. She figured after all the hospitality that she was receiving, one drink couldn't hurt. It tasted sweet like cherries and maple syrup, _so muggle_.

Placing the empty vial on the side table, Hermione shifted so her back relaxed on the headboard before looking at the petite woman.

"I'm Jeanne Devvaux, Headmistress." She curtsied, both twirling her hand delicately outward as she bowed, her eyes boring at Hermione.

"Uhm… Hermoine Granger... my french is abysmal." She muttered back, Hermione returned a curtsied, wondering what happened to Headmistress Olympe Maxime.

"English, I see." She commented in English with her French accent. "So what brought you here to _L'Académie Beauxbâtons de la Magie_?" she asked, setting herself on the leather chair beside Hermione's bed.

"Escaping a war." Hermione grabbed her beaded purse lying on top of her bed side table, and held it close to her. "I was sent here for my safety."

She felt her heart thump louder when the old witch was looking at her. She released a sigh when she saw her nod. "You must be magic, _oui_?" she asked and she nodded furiously back.

"I suppose the south is quite dangerous and all." She sighed, "But not to worry my dear, the school year has not yet started. I think you'd fit in nicely at Beauxbatons, but I'm afraid most of the students have not returned this year, in fear of Grindelwald's rising power."

Hermione blinked, stifling a gasp, "Excuse me?"

"Oh dear, you do not need to be afraid of him. He is currently in Germany. It was not a surprise when my ground's keeper found you half dead near the borders. Refugees frequent the safety of the school but well, most parents opted to take their children out this school year. Hmmm... so far, Gellert has made no move," she explained in hush disbelief, waving her hand to the silly notion.

"What's the date today?" Hermione asked, lips trembling.

"3th of June, 1944, my dear."

Hermione was dumbfounded, unconsciously gaping. Feeling the world crashing around her, cold enveloped her body. Gellert Grindelwald? Hermione clearly remembered it. As she read _Hogwarts: A History_ , he was the dark wizard who terrorized most of Europe during the 1940's and early 1950's. But the Grindelwald she knew was dead; imprisoned by Albus and killed by Voldemort.

She suddenly felt like all the air in her lungs stopped coming and she was suffocating, her hands trembled. No wonder Madam Maxime wasn't headmistress; she was thrust back fifty-ish years to the past. And what was more troubling was that she didn't know how it happened, what got her here and how to get back.

She remembered that Dumbledore had warned her about meddling in time. Fifty years worth of valuable information were at her fingertips, if people knew, her life as well as the future was in grave danger.

She started coughing, holding back her tears. The woman in front conjured more water to fill her glass and gave it to her. Hermione drank it whole, gasping as she quenched her thirst.

"Well, my dear, I shall be taking my leave, I have much to do. I'll have someone attend to you."

Hermione grasped the headmistress hands, "Madame, please wait." The headmistress turned to her. Hermione rummage her beaded purse, producing her vinewood wand and muttering a _muffliato._

The headmistress arched a brow; the spell wasn't familiar to her. "There's something you must know about me."

"I am…" Hermione contemplated, she looked the headmistress eyes, appraising her and evaluating the old croon's value in terms of trustworthiness. As of these moments, she has no one to rely on but the headmistress. She gulped unconsciously. "… not of these time."

"Oh?" The headmistress questioned doubtfully.

"I beg you to trust me when I say; I am not from this time… from the future to be precise." Hermione pleaded.

The headmistress eyed her. When they found her half dead, she was dress in the most peculiar way. "Assuming I do believe you…" She said carefully, "Why tell me this? What else do you seek from me and this school? Beside protection, of course."

Hermione eyed the headmistress, "Information." She proclaimed. "I need to know how and what happened to me."

"I see." The French croon replied thoughtfully,

"What makes you so sure that I'd keep you safe? You are, as I see, the most valuable being in all time, I suppose offering you to the lunatic will give me a sizeable reward."

"You wouldn't do that." Hermione explained with tenacity. "You know enough that Grindelwald is and will never to be trusted."

Jeanne Devvaux smirked at the girl, "Very well, you have my sworn vow." Hermioned nodded at her.

"I'll see to it the necessarily paperwork. I assume you are on your seventh year?" Hermione nodded to her, "Someone will assist you on your assimilation to the school, I'll provide compensation on the things you needed. Do not be afraid to ask of me what else you needed that I failed to provide. Other than that, have you taken any test to assess the knowledge and skills you posses?" She quirked an eyebrow at her. "No, I haven't… was supposed to but…" Hermione replied silently.

"Not to worry my dear, tomorrow you'll be taking a quick test, these will only determine what classes you should take and such. As of now, I want you rest and I hope you have a pleasant stay here in Beauxbatons," she said before disappearing from the purple-colored partition.

* * *

 **Three Months After, September 12, 1944**

* * *

Hermione was sitting in a posh seat in front of a newly varnished desk adorned with a laced tablecloth that shimmered. She shifted in her seat, pulling down her blue silk dress that was threatening to hitch up. Her back was straightened and her black stocking-covered legs were crossed as she stared at her Headmistress who was busying replying to a letter.

After giving the letter to the owl, hooting as it flew out of the window, the small woman stared at Hermione. In the three months she had stayed in Beauxbatons, Hermione had changed. Her bushy, brown locks were tamed to stylish slick and shiny curls, a lighter shade of brown. She wore light makeup, her lips a pink shade that shined and the freckles on her face gone. Her posture was fixed like a ballerina, with her back straight and her head inclined.

Hermione's opinion of Beauxbatons hadn't changed from back in 1994 when they had arrived for the Triwizard Tournament. In the all-girls school, every girl was groomed to be like a delicate lily and perfect housewife—in pureblood standards, of course. Their courses mainly consisted mostly of the Hogwarts curriculum but with the addition of etiquette, art, and music.

Beauxbatons differed much from Hogwarts; for one, there were no houses, but students were divided based upon the skill they had, like academics, arts, and sports. The library, which Hermione clearly took notice of, was vastly varied as the one in Hogwarts. Aside from that, Beauxbatons' social areas, like the lounge, garden, sun room, tea area, and the theater were extravagantly beautiful. Even Hogwarts could not compare. Fleur was right, Beauxbatons did glitter. It was heaven for Barbies.

"Miss Granger."

Hermione snapped her attention back to her Headmistress, blinking a few times before acknowledging her with a nod.

"We have received word that Gellert is overtaking the French Ministry," the Headmistress paused, letting it sink in. "… and I have decide to close down the school."

"I see," Hermione nodded slowly to her. "What about the students and those who seek refuge?" Hermione asked her voice a bit higher, dread enveloping her. She already knew that a day will come Beauxbaton will one day fall by Grindelwald, thought she prayed everyday it wouldn't happened.

"A lot of them have opted to stay with their parents. I have advised them to go somewhere away from Europe."

"What have you decided for me?" Hermione inquired worriedly.

The headmistress looked at Hermione in deep thought. Sighing, she pulled something out from one of her table drawers and placed delicately a half mask. It was designed with one butterfly wing on the right eye with three luminous stones embedded on it and intricate carving lines and curls on it. It was silver, with a shine of gold when hit perfectly at the right angle.

"This is yours, Hermione." Pushing the mask towards her, Hermione held the mask lightly with her fingers, tracing the beautiful piece. "This mask," indicating with her hands, "… is embedded with magic that whoever wears this will have the protection against those who even the most skilled legilimency won't get through."

Hermione gapped at her, " _Merci,"_ She whispered, holding the mask closely to her person.

"I've decided to send you to another school. I have written to the headmaster about your impending arrival and had proclaimed you as my ward. You will from this day and forth carry my name, Devvaux. If anything is to happen to me my entire asset and all that I have with me will be inherited by you my dear." Jeanne said nonchalantly.

Hermione stared at her dumbfounded. She shook her head furiously, "I am not leaving you behind, Madame." She said indignantly, through gritted teeth.

Jeanne stood up from her chair and circling her table; she made to hold Hermione's hands delicately in her own. "My child," the headmistress started, "there has never been a day that has gone by that I've ever regretted accepting you in L'Académie _Beauxbâtons de la Magie_. You have made me proud my dear girl."

Little tears fell and wetting Hermione's flushed cheeks, "Madame…" She pleaded, "… don't make me go."

"I can't leave the school as of now; there are still students I have to take care of. My priority is you as I have sworn to protect." She made to wipe the tears that stained Hermione's cheeks. "It's the only place I know Grindelwald will not carelessly invade."

Hermione thought for a moment, "…Hogwarts."

Jeanne nodded her head, "Yes,"

Hermione shook her head indignantly, "Grindelwald does not know who I am! I'll stay and help out until all the students are sent away and we can decide together where we could hide and—" The headmistress raise her hand to stop her.

"Thank you Hermione, but it would do no good if you stayed here any longer. You know this more than I do." She exclaimed and Hermione agreed but it does not mean that she would just take this lying down.

"Now, no more talks about this." She waved her hand in the air, gesturing as a dismissed off the topic. "Prepare yourself Hermione Devvaux _nee_ Granger, you'll be leaving in 3 days."

* * *

 **Part 2**

 **September 14, 1944.** **Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

* * *

Tom Marvolo Riddle stared blankly at the book he was reading moments ago, but held it nonetheless as if he was. He was currently lounging in the Slytherin common room, the fireplace lit, and his plush seat situated in front of it. His dark green-blue eyes glistened with the crackle of fire and his angular porcelain face looked paler over its flames.

 _Unforgiveables, Dark Curse, and Hexes by Alexander Hamilton_ , titled the book but Tom couldn't concentrate. His mind kept drifting over his plans and the necessary steps he would take after graduation—Inwardly excited over the prospect of getting his plans finally taking place and taking consequences.

"My Lord…" Tom snapped from his thoughts but did not look up, closing his eyes and opening it in a solemn manner; his eyes trailed the letters of words of the book he was reading. There was always an unspoken rule that threaded the line of the wrath of Riddle and no one dared cross it. Except for the black, curly-haired boy kneeling before him.

Tom stared at him; his head was bowed, not looking at Tom. Snapping his book, he watched him flinch. Looking up, he noted almost two dozen students who were still lounging in the common room, eyeing them.

"What's so important that you have to disturb me during my reading, Lestrange?" Tom said in a monotone, his face in a blank and expressionless face as he stared down at the boy.

"My father has asked me if you wanted to spend the Holiday with us, we have a family vacation home at Canes and would be perfect for Christmas."

Tom eyed him. Truthfully, ever since he had known that he was the direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin and the Gaunt's ring was present on his ring finger, most of the pureblood parents have given him gifts, marriage proposals, and invitations for the last 3-4 years.

But doing something unproductive on vacation was the last thing on his list of priorities. Tom thought about it for a second, weighing his pros and cons, his pros outweighing his con, but of course, he contemplated. He was sure if he denied Lestrange's offer, more offers would come seeing as there is still 3 months till the Christmas Holidays. Lestrange's public invitation incited others and given the next hour or so, someone would approach him to invite him too and the opportunity that someone would offer better than Lestrange wasn't good enough to pass.

"I shall think about your offer, Marcus." He replied. Tom wasn't stupid enough to reject Lestrange's offer, the Lestranges were a powerful pureblood family in Europe and it was good to have them by his side. But so were the families of Avery, Rocier, Malfoy, and most especially Black. Tom had heard Alphard and Abraxas boasting about their family homes, especially the one where they mentioned of their collections of dark books which Tom was interested to read.

Tom stood and darted towards the portrait hole, his followers stood as he did and bowed slightly as he passed by them.

As he walked back towards the Head's suite, Professor Slughorn called after him. He felt his face twitch in annoyance; it was a good thing that he was facing with his back at him. He schooled his features, pasting a pleasant and polite smile as he turned to his potions professor.

"Yes Professor? Do you need help with something?" he asked politely.

"Tom, m'boy! I've been looking all over for you." He huffed, putting his hands on Tom's shoulder, which took Tom every ounce of control to hold back swatting Slughorn's his slimy, sweat covered palms off of his Oxford white shirt.

"I was just in the Slytherin Common room, sir." He muttered, posing his blank and expressionless look.

"Oh, yes—yes. I was heading there myself. But enough about that! I have come to invite you to one of soiree and this time Tom; I was hoping you'd find yourself a good date." The old man smiled as if a father was encouraging his son to date. Tom faked-smiled in return.

Tom wasn't ignorant of the opposite sex. He was not inexperience on what goes on inside the bedroom and is well versed on the biology of a female body. But sex to Tom was a means to an end, and only does it for the purpose of getting something that would benefit him.

"Of course, Professor. I shall not disappoint you." He obliged as he gently shrugged Slughorn's hands off him, and turned to leave. As stupid as the parties this idiot professor hold mostly every month, it does have its advantages. The buffoon in all his idiocy does invite people he thinks would be good to know and befriend. Connection IS everything.

"Ah-! Before I forget, Tom. Headmaster Dippet asked me to tell you to welcome a transfer student from Beauxbatons' tomorrow morning. Suppose McGonnagall should be doing this the headgirl has been tasked by Albus into a special project. Not to worry my boy, the Gryffindor girl will never be able to catch up to you."

Her? Of course, Tom read it in some books of a French academy, an all-girls school somewhere in France. Tom nodded to his professor before finally turning to leave. A transfer? That was unlikely, but also understandable. Tom's sources told him of Gellert's forces advancing in France. Not that it matters, girls in that school are as useless to him as every girl in this whole damn school.

* * *

 **September 15, 1944**

* * *

Tom's perfect physique glided in a princely manner as he walks towards the main doors of Hogwarts. The news of a transferred student from Beauxbatons spread like wildfire and students were crowding the front court, waiting for the familiar Pegasus approaching the school from the morning skies. The students cheered with curious eyes, as the powder blue carriage whistled in the sky and gracefully landed on the stoned floors of the front courtyard.

The students bustled closer when the sound of the carriage door creak opened. The blue leather ballet pointed shoes stepped out of the carriage, gracefully making a stand in a fairy princess manner, her symmetrical blue dress glittering under the morning sun, her long legs covered by black stockings, standing proudly, and slender. Her hair hung loosely in soft curls, her hair a lighter shade of brown and her blue sleek, pointed hat adorning her hair. She wore simple makeup but her lips painted in blood red. Her butterfly mask place firmly to cover half of her face.

She folded her hands behind her and gently posed. He maneuvered—well more accurately the student made way for him as he darted towards her. . He could see her nervously shaking a little bit, not really noticeable. Her eyes darting slowly from left to right trying to decipher the faces of the crowd. He watched her chewed her lips and parted her curls to her back and returned back to her earlier pose.

Tom found it bizarre that the girl has hidden her half of her face with a mask. Her features although not quite hidden can be easily distinguished and like how he knew all the girls from that French school, he was positive the girl standing beside the carriage is by far not ugly. He was a little curious, but not curious enough to make it his business.

Hermione stared nervously at the crowd looking at her. She schooled her features to appear calm as she waited beside her carriage for someone to approach her and direct her or something—Although she could find her way by her own. Her hands trembled as the waning seconds passed.

On cue, a boy came marching up to her. She gaped. Merlin...

His long graceful stride made him look like he was walking on clouds. Hermione eyed him. He was immaculate and marbled in beauty and Hermione noted he was by far the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes upon. Funny, Lavender or the Parvati twins would remember him, for sure.

As he stood in front of her, Hermione could now discern that he was beyond any beauty of the gods. He exuded perfection and mystery that Hermione found herself looking at his eyes that changed color from blue to green to grey. His lips were an unnatural red, so much so that Hermione unconsciously bit her lower lip. She mentally scolded herself. _Get a grip_ , Hermione.

But Hermione felt quite put off, there was something she could not put her finger on. He was beautiful, mysterious and somewhat dangerous. She just couldn't help but be attracted to him. He was both charming and frightening.

She reached out her hand and smiled at him in a flirtatious manner. " _Bonjour, je m'appelle_ Hermione Devvaux," she spoke, enunciating her improved accent and French. He smiled at her and Hermione could feel her heart beat louder inside her chest.

He stretched out his hand, clasping hers and giving it a gentle squeeze. Hermione felt herself melt with his touch. Her fingers curled to lock with his hands and returned his gesture.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, my name is…" His voice was heavenly, like it was coated in sugar and cream. She cringed, a jolt of electricity shot through her body. Her eyes found his lips and she couldn't help but think what it would like to be kissing such a heaven-sent gift. She let out sigh.

"...Tom Riddle" And just at that moment where time felt like it stop, Hermione's back quickly stiffened, her eyes furiously blinking, as her mouth parted slowly. She swore something flash red in his eyes for a second.

* * *

Updated Schedule: February 04, 2017


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Harry Potter or any character I may use as the story progress. As all other fanfiction writters, the universe and characters are all borrowed from the author of the said book, J.K. Rowling. Other information are credited to Pottermore as well as other potter-wikipedia.

 **Warning:** Use of Explicit Language and sexual Connotation is depicted throughout the story.

* * *

 _ **CHAPTER THREE:**_

 _ **Fly on the trap.**_

* * *

 **September 15, 1944. Hogwarts Castle, Scotland, Great Britain**

* * *

"...Tom Riddle" Her eyes furiously blinking, as her mouth parted slowly.

Meeting future Dark Lord in his godly form was like experiencing the minutes before her death; everything flashing before her eyes. The long forgotten memories that she had compartmentalized and pushed back in the deepest corners of her mind over the months that she had stayed in Beauxbatons came flooding like waves of ocean.

Drowning.

It took a minute to compose herself, inhaling possibly all the air in the vicinity while trying to reel in her emotions threatening to spill out. Exhaling as she looked at him, settling with no expression at all as she snatched rudely her hands away from his grasp.

"Erm— _Vous devez être le préfet_?" **You must be the prefect**?

For a second she thought she saw something flashed before he charmingly smiled at her, his eyes looking intently as a defining silence enveloping them. She unconsciously fidgeted under his gaze.

In the future, Voldemort was an expert Legilimens—as Harry once told her—but she wasn't sure how well versed he is. Of course he learned it during his time in Hogwarts, who's known for its informative library and vast collection of dark art books.

Hermione studied him using the corner of her eyes. Truthfully, he was much more terrifying now than he was fifty years later. Standing there looking like a god-sent angel and being all silent gave Hermione shivers up and down her spine. Disgustingly, she preferred the Voldemort with the chilling hiss of a laugh than this silent, Adonis-look-a-like Tom. At least his future self was more open and straightforward, however; this one…

….the silent ones were always the most terrifying.

"No," He smiled at her, "just a mere headboy."

"Now if you will follow," He abruptly turned and started walking; Hermione gave out a sighed and hurriedly followed the boy in front of her as they entered Hogwarts. Undeniably, she was having a hard time catching up to his long strides, she nearly huffed in exasperation. Doing quick steps a few times whenever the distance between them grew longer. She mentally cursed him, glaring at the back of his head.

Hermione couldn't help but be stricken when she saw him… okay, maybe along the lines, scowled and glared at him—a little. But that's because Voldemort was supposed to be ugly, demented, and evil! Not some angelic, heaven-sent Adonis. She didn't know that. All Harry told her was that he was much different from what he is now and that of the future.

Hermione sighed. _Such an understatement_.

He towered over her, probably a little close to 6 feet in height. His body was lean, thin but well-built, his school robes did nothing but insinuate his perfectly sculptured body. His hair was jet black, parted at the sides neatly which made his lantern jaw and high cheekbones visible. His eyes were a gorgeous blue-green with thick eyelashes that gave depth, and his lips were naturally red and very kissable.

 **Undeniably Gorgeous**.

She mentally gagged. Hermione felt disgusted and frustrated at herself.

She was indeed physically attracted to him. Who wouldn't be? Tom Riddle was like a god. Not even Draco and his seem-to-be Veela features could compare to the dark lord. She often wondered how he would come to be a monster 50-ish years later. Bald, nose-free, spidery complexion flashed inside her mind, and she cringed at it.

 _Maybe because of the Horcrux, tearing his soul and all or the overly expose dark magic. Ugh. Ew._

"Do you understand english?" He stopped abruptly, turning to her. She stumbled back, barely holding herself before she collided with him.

He caught her naturally, making her blushed as she pushes herself away from him immediately, schooling her features into calm.

"I was raised in England before I went to Beauxbatons." She replies in perfect English.

"I see." He eyes her for a second before shrugging. He started walking again, she follows after him.

"Why Beauxbatons?" He asks while walking. Hermione stares at the back of his head before answering.

"My parents—they are not too keen with the idea of boys as well as my great aunt being headmistress." Lie.

"So, are they on agreement with your sudden transfer here at Hogwarts?"

She hesitates for awhile, "I don't know." He stops, turning his head over his shoulder to look at her.

"They were killed before I could ask them." She continues.

"About the mask…" Tom indicated with his hands the butterfly half mask she was wearing. "Protection." Hermione said nonchalantly. She fiddled her mask, making as though to place firmly on her face.

He stares at her for awhile before giving out a nod and continue walking. Again, silence came.

Thankfully, it gave Hermione time to her thoughts.

Hermione's mind kept replaying the events not moments ago. His voice was velvet and silky. It was one thing about his face but boy, his voice was beyond. Everything about him invites you in… Dazzling. Er…

 _Stop thinking about him_.

She mentally berated herself. She sighed inwardly. Going back an hour was one thing back in her third year, it was a whole another thing going 50-ish years back. Opting to stay in Beauxbatons than going straight to Hogwarts was entirely because she didn't want to disrupt or change the time-line… and she was slowly accepting her predicament too!

But fate seemed to have a grudge on her.

Avoiding Hogwarts was impossible to say the least. Although a small part of her was glad she was back to a familiar place, she didn't like the fact that staying at Hogwarts, the possibility of a change in the future was exponentially bigger. It scared her. Dumbledore always warned her about it.

But then again, to truly think about it, the opportunities that presented itself to her were too delicious to ignore. Looking at it, tweaking a little bit of the past doesn't necessarily change much of the future.

She read about it, a compilation of essays about theories of time in the Beauxbatons' library. It wasn't really explained in detailed, but the author mentioned that in every timeline there would always be a constant variable. And Hermione wasn't sure what that variable was.

Maybe, Tom Riddle becoming Voldemort would always be the future 50-ish years after?

She refocused her mind, noting the abandoned but familiar corridor. Unconsciously playing with her wand inside her dress pockets, she eyed Tom's back as he briskly walks towards the gargoyle statue at the end of the corridor.

Both of them fell to a stop in front of the gargoyle statue. He turned towards her.

"This is the headmaster's office," he said, gesturing towards the gargoyle statue. It was replaced to an eagle when Dumbledore became headmaster in the future. "Headmaster Dippet is expecting you. You are to be sorted into your house then given your schedule."

"Sorted?" she asked dumbly, schooling her features to those of curiosity.

"Each student here is sorted into four different houses namely Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff, named after the four founders. How you get sorted depends solely by the Sorting Hat, how he decides that, unfortunately, I do not know," he explained as he motioned her towards the hollow space of the gargoyle as he muttered the password.

"Uhm—thank you." She called after him giving him a nod. **He did help her**.

He smiled at her , "Best of luck, Miss Devvaux," he muttered, smiling charmingly at her as he disappeared behind the stone wall. She could have melted—could have, if only he didn't remind her of snake-face.

* * *

Hermione knock a few times as she came face to face with the wooden doors that open towards the Headmaster's office. She heard someone muttering behind the door and awkwardly Hermione pushed it opened, peering her head through before fully going inside.

"You must be Hermione Devvaux _nee_ Granger from Beauxbatons?" His low, hoarse voice echoed throughout the empty room. It was surprisingly empty. There were books and some trinkets, but not as many trinkets when Dumbledore became Headmaster.

She nodded to him, bowing elegantly like how she was trained in Beauxbatons. It was customary to bow towards people as a first greeting especially towards people like school's head and professors. She looked up to him, as he was beaming at her.

"Yes, yes… shall we proceed to business?" he inquired.

Hermione eyed the Headmaster. He was exactly like how he was described in Hogwarts: A History. He wore the standard blue robes, his hair grey and almost bald, and feeble, his hands were shaking as he held the letter in front of him. He was also a lot like Slughorn,

She nods, "of course."

"That's good, that's good—well then, welcome to Hogwarts, before anything else, sorting to your h—"

A knock came from the door, and a young Dumbledore came in, still red in hair, his beard still a shade of auburn and both were still short in length.

Hermione didn't deny it, she had missed Dumbledore.

Aside from his manipulative self, he was still the only headmaster Hermione loved and admired. He was also the only person Voldemort feared. She guessed when he died, Hermione couldn't help but look at the mess he had created and vilified him for it.

It meant that she was simply human.

The fear Voldemort planted grew ten times more when Dumbledore fell from the Astronomy tower. It was as if the world had come to an end and three of them; Harry, Ron and Hermione struggled under the pressure, the expectations of the people had on them as their last hopes.

That's what drove Hermione to the corner. Why Dumbledore did it, let himself die, she did not know. But she blamed him all the same.

"Armando, I was dropping by to remind you of the meeting with Galatea before dinner." His voice was low and wise, just like how he was in the future. He eyed him; before he turned to Hermione. His eyes looked surprised as he finally noticed her.

Dippet eyed him through his square glasses, "Ah—yes, yes." He looked at Hermione as he stood up, "I'm sorry m'dear, but I must leave as of the moment. This here is Albus Dumbledore, you're transfiguration professor." Gesturing to him, "I hope you don't mind Albus, I haven't sorted the transfer student yet, now I'm running late for a meeting." He turned to Dumbledore as he neared to the door.

"Not at all Armando," he chimed, a twinkle in his eyes as Dippet waved, disappearing behind the door.

Hermione stared at the door for a fleeting moment before turning back to Dumbledore, again she bowed towards him.

"Shall we?" He said as he motioned Hermione towards a tall empty 4 legged stool. She nodded to him, sitting at the pointed stool.

Hermione looked at him, as he placed the same tattered hat on top of her head.

"Hmmmm..." The sorting hat hummed, wiggling atop her head. A few minutes has gone by and the hat hadn't spoken a single word. "You've protected yourself well girl." The hat mentioned. "I can't sort you, if you do not let me in."

Hermione sighed and made to move to remove her mask, when she noticed Albus looking at her curiously. She swallowed, "Professor, would you mind if you could turn around?"

As if he didn't realize, he fake gasped in surprised and turned around. Hermione eyed him for a brief moment and removed the mask, her eyes never leaving the senile fool.

"Aha!" The hat exclaimed, given access to Hermione's thoughts and memories. "Such a brilliant mind," it continued to a compliment.

"Can't decide, can't decide indeed." The hat hummed to himself.

 _Gryffindor…_ _ **I belong in Gryffindor**_ **.**

"I don't think so," it hissed at her, "Such brilliant mind…?" Chanting again as Hermione mentally snorted.

"Where to put you? Where should I? Brilliant mind, hmmm… Ravenclaw? No, no…" Her eyes search above her head, trying to balance the hat as he started again fidgeting atop of her.

"Surely not Hufflepuff?… definitely not Hufflepuff. Hmmm…. Gryffindor? Possibly," he mused.

 **Yes! Gryffindor!**

"But my dear, Slytherin will do you wonders." He explained.

 _ **No, definitely not Slytherin… shouldn't you take my decision into consideration? Hey! Hey—**_

"SLYTHERIN!" the hat announced after 15— _painstaking_ —minutes of consideration. Hermione panicked, a distressed look graced her features as Albus removed the hat from her head.

"Stupide, vile, _putain de chapeau dément_!" she muttered under her breath as she hopped off the stool. Dumbledore eyed her as she started grumbling to herself.

"Well then, congratulations are in order." He clapped his hands to her; she tightly smiled back at him. "This here is your schedule, quite a schedule it is." She awkwardly nods back, accepting the parchment.

She scanned the list. It was almost the same one she had in Beauxbatons.

She was taking the usual, Advance Transfiguration, Advance Charms, Advance Potions, History of Magic, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Astronomy, Herbology, Arithmancy, and Study of Ancient Runes. Given her previous O.W.L.s' results, she had the privilege of taking an additional two classes more than allowed to other students.

"Uhm—thank you." She stammered. He looked at her calculating, the twinkle of his eyes glimmering under the candle light.

An awkward silence fell, and Hermione found herself looking nervously wary in his presence.

"Miss Devvaux" he started. "Your great-aunt, Headmistress Jeanne, has sent me a letter 3 days ago of your transfer here. Hogwarts will offer you the best protection it can provide. Anything you need, just ask me." he explained in a sly tone as he eyed Hermione.

Hermione nodded stiffly at him. She studied him again. A lot can happen in 50-ish years… maybe—just maybe, he is different in this timeline.

She contemplated telling Dumbledore everything, he is after all the most powerful wizard next to Merlin, surely if she told him, and he'd help her, help her get back to the future— _A future where everyone I love is dead_ , she thought bitterly. She observed him for a second and often wondered.

Albus was sly and manipulative man, but if you overlook the underhanded fact, his intentions were purely good. He was essentially good.

"Professor…" she started, raking her brain for any last minute objections, "I am…" She gulped, hesitating for a moment. "I am—uhm,." She eyed him to see if he understood her, he nodded in her direction. "…supposed to be someone that shouldn't exist…" _At this time_ , she added in her mine. "Something in me is too much valuable that my great aunt hadn't stressed enough the importance of my protection."

"If word got out that I exist, then my life will be utmost in grave danger." She continued, "Swear to me that you will do everything in your power to protect this secret," She looked at him purposely, watching him nodded to her,

"Even if it means ending my life."

He looked at her warily, a moment's hesitation as if he was contemplating, "I swear."

"Thank you." Hermione nervously nodded to him, deciding not to press any further. She wondered why she told him this, why she made this proclamation as if inciting that whatever secret she has of greatest value—even though essentially it is. But the thought of having Albus know the value is a gamble.

Albus, as she always believed, no matter how twisted his sense of 'greater good', it is ultimately good and she must put forth her faith in the old fool that he was as she remembered him to be, good in all sense.

But knowing that he would protect the secret with her wasn't enough comfort.

* * *

 **A few hours ago...**

* * *

As she was travelling to Hogwarts, inside the quiet carriage, she flipped through all the compiled parchments she had made and accumulated while in her stay in Beauxbatons—Her 'intensive' research on time-traveling. It had mentioned a constant variable; in that many created timeline there is always a constant variable that ties every timeline together. But what is this constant variable? She thought deeply and again couldn't come up with an answer. She sighed and placing the parchments at her side in disregard. She opted to stare aimlessly at the horizon, dawn approaching.

She thought about Harry.

For months she had pushed back her memory of him. On her first few days in Beauxbatons, she had fallen in despair over the constant nightmare of that moment when Harry pushed her through the fireplace. She hadn't had the time to mourn him and had dreaded to accept the fact that Harry was—and presumably dead.

Needless to say, she often wondered what happened after that—did the Light side overcame and won at odds or did the Dark side won overwhelmingly? She'll probably never know. But seeing how everything was going up until the moment she disappeared, Hermione deemed the future, not inconclusive but ultimately doomed.

The time she came from was dark… and dead.

 _Maybe_ … an inkling feeling in her, think maybe this was a blessing in disguise…a gift of opportunity. She shook her head at the thought. She has been schooled so many times about the importance of distorting the timeline by Minerva Mcgonagall after the events in her third year.

She contemplated. What good is to protect a future when the future she came from was doomed?

She furrowed her brow, frustration building up. In the end, she opted not to choose any decision or course of action decisively. Unless she figured out what the constant variable is, no hasty decision at the moment. For now, she must secure an exit route… _just in case something unfavorable happens._

She sighed inwardly, _Well I supposed it is inevitable. I have to exhaust all my options._

And by option she meant, **_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_** **.**

* * *

Update schedule: February 11,2017


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Harry Potter or any character I may use as the story progress. As all other fanfiction writters, the universe and characters are all borrowed from the author of the said book, J.K. Rowling. Other information are credited to Pottermore as well as other potter-wikipedia.

 **Warning:** Use of Explicit Language and sexual Connotation is depicted throughout the story.

* * *

 _ **CHAPTER FOUR:**_

 _ **Brewing Kettles and Thinking Plans**_

* * *

Tom Riddle sat silently at the head of the long table of his house, flanked by his Knights as they started in hush whispers, their topic, the 'Beauxbatons girl' as they had dubbed her.

"I've asked my father to inquire about her." Tom inclined his head towards a boy whose hair, tousled and black, curled at the tip, a Vincent Avery. Tom nodded his head for him to continue. "Her name is Hermione Devvaux _nee_ Granger, greatgrand-niece of Beauxbatons' Headmistress, Jeanne Devvaux. According to her school records, both her biological parents are dead…" Tom raised his brow at him, questioningly.

Vincent shrugged his shoulders, "Her biological parents never married. Her real father died fighting against Grindelwald and her mother married a mudblood."

"She grew at a small village in the borders of England and was taught at home most of her life. Grindelwald attacked her village and she was forced to flee to Beauxbatons' seeking help from her great-aunt who is currently her only living relative."

"What about the mask? Why is she wearing it?" Gabriel Nott questioned, raking his brown locks away from his face as he took a bite from his dinner. "

"I've asked my cousin who attended the school before she got pulled out. Apparently the girl has a good head on her shoulders. Well behave and well-mannered—Very refined and obedient." Cygnus Black, a year younger whose jet black hair was perm and glue firmly atop his head; Alabaster skin and somewhat skinny.

"A perfect pureblood bride." Nott finished.

"But it does not answer the question as to why she is wearing a damn mask." an ash white blonde, Abraxas Malfoy spoke as he slid to a seat besides Avery. "Honestly though, it makes one think she is ugly as a hippogriff,"

"On the contrary," Cygnus made to pull something out from his robe pocket. A magical picture. Cygnus handed the picture to Tom and Tom fiddled on the picture with his slender fingers, feigning carelessness but inwardly curious.

She was seated in a patterned royal blue arm-chair. Wearing her Beauxbaton's assigned blue dress with legs crossed and back straight. She was flipping pages from a book before looking up.

Her face…

Tom couldn't describe explicitly her face. It was in all accounts an understated beauty—She is an understated beauty. The more you look at her the prettier she gets.

She doesn't have exactly aristocratic beauty like Parkinson or any of the pureblood girls in Slytherin. No. More like refine and incandescent, something soft and simple.

"I like mine with a bit more meat in them." Escaping his trance, as Malfoy gave another abhorring comment; Tom thought to himself that the girl had enough meat in her not to be considered bony.

"Like you care whether she has curves or not, Malfoy," Gabriel snorted as Abraxas started digging in his dinner. "You're willing to shag anyone as long as she has a cunt."

"At least, I had the decency to man up to my manly needs," he spat, crumbs of his toast spraying across the table. Vincent playfully slapped the back of Abraxas' head, making him choke, coughing furiously as he tried to reject the piece of meat lounging in his throat. Both Vincent and Gabriel erupted in fits of laughter as Abraxas glared at both of them, downing a glass of pumpkin juice.

Tom stared at them before turning away, tuning out their voices as they started an intense conversation about Quidditch. He found himself thinking about her. She was by far the most superior of potential, marriageable girls in Hogwarts— _if the said list does exist, per say_ —not that he is planning to get married or be married at all. He already has plans and steps that have taken place and are set in motion. He has no time entertaining his romantic-side of life or anything that would thwart his goal.

No matter. Once he has accomplished his goal. Girls won't be a problem.

His thoughts wandered back to the first time they met, she was beaming at him. But as soon as their hands touched, she flinched from him. Horror and angst bounced back and forth, sometimes bordering to a glare but then she settled in a stone, blank expression, talking to him through gritted teeth and displayed faked smiles.

He would be a liar if he told himself he was not surprised. She acted as if she was revolted by his mere presence and it was damn infuriating.

Tom was puzzled by her. What made her react towards him that way? He wondered ever since.

* * *

As he was starting to get lost in his thoughts again, Dippet's voice echoed through the hall, taking a few seconds for the chatter to die down.

"In accordance to recent events, what with Grindelwald's troops advancing to France, our sister school has given us a wonderful addition straight from Beauxbaton's Academy of Magic, Miss Hermione Devvaux!" he bellowed and a round of applause erupted throughout the hall.

In cue, the door burst open revealing a girl wearing the traditional Beauxbatons uniform, a one piece symmetrical silk blue dress, with a half-blue coat. Her blue, dew drop, pointed hat, sat angular on her head, her curls lying lazily on her shoulders as she lightly tapped her blue leather shoes, approaching the Headmaster. She was followed by Dumbledore.

She bowed elegantly towards the professor's table, turned and bowed again towards the students, blue butterflies erupting from under her robes.

"Yes, yes… settle down now." Dippet announced giving a few seconds before the sound died down. Tom watched her as she stood still beside the Headmaster, her back straight and elegantly, looking straight, as if her vision zoom past the faces of students.

 _Devvaux…_ Tom eyed her for the rest of the night.

* * *

Hermione scooted at the far end of the table away from Tom. A few Slytherin girls and a whole lot of boys threw her curious stares and she fidgeted under their gaze.

Her mind drifted back towards her encounter with Dumbledore. She's a bit happy with the way her meeting with Albus turned out to be. Although, it was close to the truth, but it was far enough that she didn't reveal anything, only that whatever she have—or know—it was dire enough for her to kill herself in order to safe guard it and planting this idea in his head will give her a leverage in her next step.

She snap out from her thoughts when she felt someone slide in the empty seat opposite of her, Hermione looked up to find a replica of Pansy looking at her except her hair was curled into a 40's updo.

"I'm Milicent Parkinson." Her beady blue eyes bored into Hermione's brown orbs as she smiled fakely and held out her hand. Hermione awkwardly accepted hers, giving a hasty shake before retreating her hand back, "This is Vivienne Greengrass…" pointing towards a dark-haired girl who looked a lot like Astoria, currently immersed in her book.

Seriously, is there supposed to be something against genetically born with the same face of your past—present ?

"… and this is Julie Davis," she finished, indicating a girl with black, curly hair and a pale complexion sitting beside Vivienne. Hermione stiltedly smiled at them.

"So… Hermione Devvaux _nee_ Granger, right? Heard about Devvaux but not a Granger. Half-blood?"

"I was born with a muggle name." Millicent raised a brow at her.

"So you're a mudblood then?" Her tone was cold and sharp, accusing her. Hermione blinked back the sting that came with her tongue lash. She gulped, raised her chin, straightened her back and leveled her eyes at her.

"No, of course not," she said firmly. "My real father was a pure-blood, my step-father was a muggle-born. I just recently took after my great-aunt's name." Hermione wince as she lied. Back in her time, she could have easily and proudly said she was a muggle-born, but desperate time called for desperate measures. She had to blend in. It was a must.

Millicent looked at her, eyeing her sharply before giving her a sly smile. "Well it is as the saying goes 'better a half-blood than a mudblood.'"

Hermione returned her gaze with a firm one. Crossing her arms over her chest, "Welcome to Slytherin," she chimed, smiling, a smile which Hermione doubted was welcoming. Without looking away, "Vivienne," she called out.

Vivienne look up from her book. "Why don't you show Hermione around." Millicent's request seemed more like a command and immediately, without question, Vivienne stood up and gestured Hermione to come with her. Although Hermione wanted to decline, by the distressed look Vivienne had given her, Hermione gave up and followed suit as they both exited the great hall, ignoring the blatant stares.

As they arrived in front of the entrance of the Slytherin Dungeon after many winding corridors, " _Trust no one but your own_ " Vivienne hissed and the stone door shuffled open.

Hermione couldn't hide the surprise when she entered. The common room looked like it came from a fairy tale book. The floor was tiled in green and the couches were decorated in silver embroidery over black felt.

It was grand to say the least, cold, but fit for a king. _Snake King to be precise._

"So this is the Slytherin common room," Vivienne announced snapping Hermione from her thoughts. "The boys are on the right, girls on the left." Hermione nodded in understanding.

Vivienne strode towards the stairs leading towards the girl's dormitory, "Seventh year, right?" Hermione nodded. "You're dorm room is on the third floor, last door to your right. Your bed is on the far corner. Change into your school robes and meet me back in the common room," she instructed.

Hermione followed her directions towards her dorm room.

As soon as she entered, Hermione plopped herself on her bed, her face hitting on a green felted feather pillow. Slytherins did have a thing for refined furniture. The dorm rooms were very different than the ones she had seen. In her dorm alone, every bed was a canopy, made of African black wood (most expensive wood in the world), and finely carved with serpentine carvings. Her curtains were green silk with silver lace embroider till the foot of the bed, her feather pillows were of a green felt fabric and she had cotton black blankets.

She snatched a parcel off her bed and made her way towards the bathroom. The 1940's uniform was very different from her time. It was much more conservative, but insinuated femininity. Her white, long-sleeved, padded, female Oxford shirt tucked under her black pleated skirt, which hung just an inch above her knee. She wore black stockings and black shiny pumps. She wore a green stripe ribbon tied around her collar. She looked like those female airplane conductors back in the nineties.

She slipped on her black robe, with a green laced border. She did her hair using some hair spells she had learned from Beauxbatons, curling it just at the tips, parting it to the sides. She put on light makeup, making her lips a soft pink before deeming it enough. Never forgetting her mask, placing it firmly over her half her face.

She exited her dorm room and headed towards the common room.

Sure enough, the common room was pack by the time she had arrived. Most of the couches were occupied, especially the ones around the fireplace. Hermione's eyes darted from the somewhat familiar faces that were gracefully lounging on the couch. She spotted Vivienne standing aside a long black couch, she was motioning Hermione to come closer.

"Hermione, let me introduce you to the 7th years." Vivienne's catty voice sounded as she gestured towards the crowd.

"That's Vincent Avery…" she said, gesturing towards the guy nearest to them. He looked up and smiled at Hermione, catching her hands and placing a kiss at the back. Hermione fought back a disgusted look that was threatening to grace her face.

"… Beside him, Gabriel Nott." She gestured to a boy who was currently immersed on his game of Wizard chess. He briefly looked up and smiled before turning back to his game,

"The one he's up against is Marcus Lestrange."

Hermione noted each person, remembering their faces, how they were seen fifty years in the future and on an old album tucked away in Dumbledore's possessions. They were the same as always, snotty and arrogant looking. Looking around, she found most of the Millicent gang huddled up in one couch reading Witch Weekly magazines and chatting in shrieking voices. Shrieking Banshees.

She noted in that one arm chair was facing the crackling flames of the fireplace. Hermione felt her heart twinge, her hand automatically clutched her chest, a throbbing pain shot through her body, and she felt like she couldn't breathe all of a sudden.

Calm down Hermione. You've met him already. It's not like he'd kill you with everyone present… would he?

Vivienne motioned for her to follow, and she did. With every muscle fiber in her body, she willed it to move. Gracefully, bravely with a purpose.

She noticed the room went silent, and she could feel all eyes on her.

"Tom…" Vivienne started and Hermione's heart went overdrive. Hermione felt a sudden shift in the air like everything had stopped. Tom stood up from his seat, a charming smile plastered on his face. Hermione felt herself shivere.

"Miss Devvaux, we meet again." His soft velvety voice slithered under her skin and she cringed at it.

She gulped. "M-monsieur Riddle," she almost stammered, but willing her voice steady. "Good evening. "

He held out his hand to her and she slowly lifted her left hand and laying it on his. He planted a sweet kissed at the back of her palms, just atop her ring finger. Hermione didn't even notice she held her breath for so long until she let out a soft exhale. She displayed a small smile and made a little nod in his direction.

"Good evening, as well." he chimed, releasing her hands. "If you will excuse me, I would love to chat with you and get to know you better but I have duties I must attend to."

"Please don't mind me." She acknowledged, "I am planning to go to bed early, it's been a long day."

"A long day indeed."

"Miss Greengrass, escort Hermione back to her room." He commanded and Vivienne was by her side. Hermione gave another small smile. He turned to her, his green-blue eyes sparkled, a hint of red flashing for a second.

"By the way, Miss Granger. The head of the house, Professor Slughorn asked me to be your guide tomorrow, so is 7:30 okay with you?" He questions and Hermione dazedly nodded, before shuffling towards the stairs up the girl's dorm.

Tom looked at her retreating figure as she disappeared through the stairs that led towards the girl's dormitory. He let out a sighed before returning back to his chair… throne.

" _My Knights_ …" Tom bellowed, "I have headboy duties to attend to. I trust that all of you won't get caught this time."

Marcus nod to him as well as the others. A solemn look and understanding as they thought of what may come in tonight's meeting and what they should prepare for. After all, forbidden forest is not short of dangerous… it is forbidden for a reason.

* * *

 **2 Weeks After…**

* * *

 _My Dearest Aunt Jeanne,_

 _How are you?_

… _Where are you?_

 _I heard Grindelwald has overtaken the French Ministry! I am overwhelmed with fear and worry. You haven't written to me ever since I arrived here in Hogwarts and I have sent you letters upon letters each and every day. I know you get them; the owls never returned them to me. I am tempted to go there myself but only the thought of you not wishing me in harm's way kept my wits about._

 _Life here has fallen in a routine. Waking and sleeping at certain time of the day. The hype of my arrival has died down as I have made no moves to attain or wish any attention to me… only the occasional stares and curiosity of what is under my mask. I have kept my promise to you. I've worn the mask every single second of everyday._

… _I wish you were here with me. I have no one to talk too…_

 _I decided that I would change it._

 _I am not certain how exactly, but I will. There is nothing left for me there, only sadness and pain… death._

 _Do not worry about me and my decision. Tomorrow, I am going to ask for a pass to the restricted section. Hopefully, the seed that I planted will grow a fruitful one._

 _Stay Safe,_

 _~Hermione_

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

Thank you for all your support! I really appreciate it :) and as a reward I will be sending the first person **chapter five** two days before the update schedule if she/he could answer two question related to the story thus far. You can answer by posting a review on this chapter. You can post as many answer as you want.

Question:

1.)What is Hermione's first objective?

2.)Why do you think Hermione's reason of saying what she said to Dumbledore?

Good Luck Everyone! I'm looking forward to your answers.

* * *

 **Update:** February 17, 2017


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Harry Potter or any character I may use as the story progress. As all other fanfiction writters, the universe and characters are all borrowed from the author of the said book, J.K. Rowling. Other information are credited to Pottermore as well as other potter-wikipedia.

 **Warning:** Use of Explicit Language and sexual Connotation is depicted throughout the story.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **I know it's been awhile and I failed to comply with the promise that I would update every week. But life kinda caught up with me and instead of going back to writing, I end up reading books to give some inspirations.** (head out to my blog for a selection of books that I've read and like) **Anyway, this chapter is the revamp version. Please, please, please leave a review after you've read it. I wanted to know what you thought of the chapter, whether you like how Hermione has become or Tom.**

* * *

 **CHAPTER FIVE:**

 **Toujours A Vous.**

* * *

 **Hermione's POV**

* * *

It has been weeks… maybe close to a month since I've last seen or heard of Madame Devvaux—Aunt Jeanne for lack of better term. It also means it has been a month of being back in Scotland and a quiet month—quiet as that I've completely blended into the monotonous life of 1940s' Hogwarts. I've fallen back into a routine of mostly waking up, going to class, and absolutely no talking to anybody, unless necessary. Like sunrays shining down my bare fac, lady luck has bless me the quiet solitude to go about my business which basically entails making a set of plans to be prep properly and execute perfectly.

So here I am, mask lying forgotten on a dusty desk and my nose stuck on a book in the forbidden section of the libray, an hour after midnight. Not that I am in any fear of the caretaker, having taken precaution with notice-me-not spell and making sure I came here after the prefects, professors, and heads made their rounds.

I let out a defeated sigh as I closed another book. I thought it look promising when I read the paragraph at the beginning but after the whole chapter, it still lacks vital information. It left me disappointed and in more question than when I first started.

Speaking of information, I was looking for notes regarding time-paradoxes and time-traveling but there is hardly anything useful regarding that topic, nothing I could say, I needed. Just the same stuff I've read back in the 'future'. And to think Hogwarts has the best library in all of magical England—such an understatement. Ugh. I felt the throbbing ache coming again.

"… _putain._ " _**Fuck**_.

I whispered through gritted teeth, rubbing my temples to ease the pain. Flicking my wand, I put away the book back to its shelf. Leaning in comfort against the cushion velvet chair that I transfigured from an ordinary stool, in one of the corner nook where a window towered behind it, I stared aimlessly at the moon. It was in its fullest; round and illuminating. Half wishing the moon light would shine some wisdom on me, not that it actually would but there is no harm in wishing about it though. I'm still ways long of all my plans coming in fruition.

I still have reserves on the seed I planted in his head. Knowing his sense of 'greater good' is screwed as a wailing banshee, He can be very unpredictable ... No matter, with enough water that seed would grow to a magnificent tree. That I am anticipating the most.

I still have to plan to my next move though. I've never told that old wanker what the 'dire secret' is—though it will remain that way in the foreseeable future unless I deemed it necessary to act on it. There is so much to do before I have to go back to that seed.

Not that I'm purposefully keeping the secret of my existence in this time line, I just want to use my 'unique skill' to move the pieces on the board to a future I deemed worthy. I guess you could say, I would make the most of my situation. I owe it to all the people I've left behind.

My current worry though is the whereabouts of Headmistress Devvaux. Like I said, I haven't heard anything regarding her in the last month we've been separated. She's the only one who knows my true identity and if I don't find out what happened to her, then all my perfectly laid out plans will fail.

Flicking my wand, I Accio-ed another book from the pile I have accumulated on a desk. _Myths, Legends and Everything in Between_ by Proppet Tully. "Hmmm…" Turning to the page regarding information about vampirism.

I have no inkling wish to be vampire though, I'm just curious as to how their 'un-deadly' attribute came about. I wanted to know how they are physically, anatomically, and chemically seemingly alive with a foot over the line of death. Yes, I wanted to know how to achieve their immortality. If I could figure out how, then maybe I can present another option to Voldemort other than Horcrux.

Let's face it snake-face Voldy is someone I'd rather not see for the second time. I can't phantom how his godly features turned to that of something so vile. I shivered at the mere thought of his future ugliness. No! I am not vain, but if I am to make someone king, I want to make him a handsome king, atleast that way I can tolerate his existence.

Suppose I should be against Riddle and his campaign in world dominance, but since I have no clear understanding about time-paradox, I don't really want to alter greatly the flow of events. Riddle must rise to power still, that's something interchangeable. It is because of him why everything that happened happened. The only thing I could do is guide the young dark lord in a more humane and reasonable path.

In such ways, I can control how the future will come, at least give chances to the most deserving people, especially Harry. Harry who have gone through so much, I owe him a family and a life with less drama and less worry—he deserves that. If I have the power to do that, then I will do it will all that I have.

Continuing my reading, "… The last known vampire Vladimr Stefan, resides in Northern Romania, living a life of solitude after he was forced into a non-complacent to natural behavior mandate placing him unable to drink blood from non-magical and magical beings..." Oh? That's interesting. Northern Romania, maybe I should pay a visit?

As I turned a page, a measly creak I suspected from the main door floated dangerously pass my ear. _Someone is here!_ I flicked my wand to cut the burning candles out, another flick to return the books and another to revert the chair back to its original form. I swirled my robe over my shoulders, putting my mask back into place, before leaning towards the shadows of the shelves as light footsteps comes nearer to my spot.

"I saw her come in the library hours ago."

Hush masculine voice pierced the silence of the room. I gripped my hand around my wand, tighter. _Damn_. Peering through the gap between books, I could make-up a boyish shadow of face being illuminated by a _lumos_ spell… one of Riddle's cronies, no doubt.

 _Tsk._ I expected him to catch on at some point, but not this early in the game. To make a move this early, I wonder what he has up in his sleeves.

"I know you are in here." His menacing silky tone slithered.

I bit my lips to quell the nervousness that was creeping at the pits of my stomach. "Monsieur Riddle… so nice of you and your minions to accompany me tonight."

"That is delightful I supposed, it is not every day you find someone as mysterious as you snooping around this part of the library." He exclaimed, "One would think you are not doing something lucrative."

 _Next time Riddle._ I whipped my wand making a shot of spell that hits the shelves off books causing it to topple hopefully towards Riddle's party. With a quick _muffliato_ , I quick-stepped towards the main door and ran down the corridor without looking back.

* * *

 **Tom's POV**

* * *

"Get up." I hissed at my knights as they regain their footing. Clever witch, she managed to evade them. Now she knows I'm watching her. Flexing my wrist, my magic swirled around the fallen bookshelf as it stood back into place as well as the scattered books realigned in its hollow.

"We're leaving." I commanded, dusting off the remnants of dirt on my robes, watching the shadow disappear behind the library main door.

"What do we do with her, my lord?" I turn to look over my shoulder as Malfoy straighten his robes and fixed his hair.

"Nothing." I told them, as they stood behind me with a stone expression gracing their aristocratic features, "It is her turn to make a move."

"Avery," I signaled as Vincent as he came forward, giving a slight bow. "Make sure no trace is left in here. " I ordered before I walked out the library.

Walking calmly at an easy pace towards my dorm room, having no worries being caught and if I do, I have a perfectly good excuse as to why I am out of bed after curfew hours. As head boy it was within my jurisdiction to ascertain that the safety of Hogwarts and its student on my top priority and doing rounds is one of them. Although I'd rather avoid being caught. I don't want my actions being suspected by the old fool. If he so found out what happened tonight, chances are he that old fool will stick his nose into my business, not that he hasn't already, but I have enough on my plate and have no patience with anymore loads.

With tonight's event, I grinned inwardly. It is facetious really for her to think that I would not know what she was doing. Those late night visits to the forbidden section of the library will send alarm signals to anybody who knows about it, other than the fact that I also like to know everybody's going-ons in Slytherin House; We are a close-nit family. Plus the fact that having knowledge to that helps me better grasp who's who. It is a den of snake and I'd rather have my back well protected. The strongest are those who know and control the game—they rarely lose.

The hype of her arrival quickly diminished after she seemingly went about her business. She blended with the crowd of ordinary and did the most mundane things. At this time around, everyone got used to her 'quirkiness' or the weird fact that nobody has seen her real face in person, always hiding behind the mask. They have accepted that fact as a commonality. How complacent really.

Unlike everybody though, I know valuable when I see one.

To say she is unique is an understatement. The little French girl is actually quite clever and exceptionally smart. If I have to admit, her intelligence is on par with mine. Her academic record says it all plus her classroom performance is second to mine. The difference is that she shies away from anything that is relatively grandiose. She retains her excellence by her written academic prowess. Subtle really, admirable even, which intrigues me… and I rarely get interested on something or someone that does not concern me.

To be honest, I want to make her mine. The essence of 'mine' though is yet to be determined.

I noticed her repertoire of books she was reading. Myths, legends, old records of vampire sightings to time-travel, time in relation to magic—too varied to anybody and I'm they will probably dismiss the fact that all topics have one thing in common, the concept of time. Now I wonder what our little minx is dabbling on these certain topics… immortality perhaps? She went through most of the books I was reading when I was hunting for information about it. If she was on some level like me, a mere human lifetime is not enough to learn all that there is to magic.

Sadly, the book she is that has any information regarding that no longer exists. Prior to having any knowledge of it, it was kept a secret, Dumbledore sought to that. But it doesn't mean that it will always be kept hidden. So when I came upon the book. I burned it after reading it. It is a sin—to destroy a valuable book—but then I'm going to the underworld anyway. And if I want a secret remain a secret, and then I make it so by destroying all that holds to it.

Speaking of immortality, I twirled my heritage ring on my finger, not that I regret ever creating it. The death of that muggle imbecile poured forth a satisfaction so decadent, it was on par the moment I learned I was the heir of Slytherin. I am more than any of these pompous aristocratic buffoons, by blood and by birth and unlike them; I did not succumb so blissfully on the favors… No, I rise to be more than I can be and one day I will rule.

And If I become a ruler then I must know each and every subject, which includes Hermione Jean Devvaux _nee_ Granger. Ahh, clever little minx. So quick to hide but so much to show.

Ugh. No, no, there must be something I am not seeing.

That girl is shrouded by so many mysteries; I'm surprise nobody even catches on with it. That mask she seemingly never takes off, the fact that she scurries the forbidden section of library with books any girl at her age would never dare to pick up—even Ravenclaws who devour knowledge contains to the premise of the curriculum, and her dubious arrival in Hogwarts but also in France is nothing sort of coincidental.

Interesting really… very interesting.

* * *

 **Hermione's POV**

* * *

I woke up to the sun light blaring down my face. I grudgingly forced myself up, pushing away the green velvet covers that wound and entangled around my body. Remembering last night brought an unpleasant feeling in the pits of my digestive system. After madly running back to my dorm room, I plopped so ungracefully on my bed, pulled my curtains and spent a good hour warding the my bed and the next hour in holding my wand in a death grip wondering when would Riddle rain hell on me and if he would I would be damn if I was asleep when it comes. But that never happened; at least he has the decency to not attack me on my sleep.

Now that he has made his move, I suppose it is appropriate to respond in return. At most, He expects that of me. I'm sure that he spent all this time observing me and have probably discern the pros and cons of my being here. I am, if he cared to admit his equal or his female counterpart for that matter. I don't intend to hide away my intelligence, though I didn't flaunt it as gallantly as he did during class. I guess a small part of me just want to at least finish my 7th year the way I wanted it back in the future amidst all this. And my 'ancestry'—being related to the headmistress of Beauxbatons, it is prestigious still even if my relation is quite complicated. If I were him, I want myself to be an ally… not just any ally, of course.

 _Merde_! _**Shit!**_

I've bitten my lips too hard; I could taste the salty metallic blood at the tip of my tongue and the sting it emits.

I reached over my night stand to grab a piece of parchment and quill while rubbing my lips to ease the pain. After scribbling my letter, I opened my bed side window and gave out a short whistle. A white bird glistened through the morning sky, an albino eagle perched itself on my window pane.

I reached out to it, gently gliding my finger at his sides, purring his name in favor, "Koaren…" He leaned towards my finger in reply, "I have something for you to do."

I tied the letter parchment on his claws, securing it properly. "Send this to Riddle." It looked at me steadily, "… and don't bite him please." I added knowing my vicious eagle has the tendency to nip on its recipient who it was not familiar with. It opened up its wings and begins flapping it gracefully shooting up to the sky.

I turned away from my window, grabbing my essentials and heading to the bathroom. Might as well make myself pretty, I'm heading in the front lines of war.

* * *

 **Tom's POV**

* * *

 _Riddle,_

 _We need to talk. I'll be waiting at the edge of the forbidden forest._

 _~Hermione_

I watched her slump against a hollow of a tree, her robes scattered on the ground as she sat on it and her nose stuck on a book as usual. Feeling the parchment buried in my robe, I approached her, making sure to stomp on a branch lying on the ground, the noise as it breaks will catch her attention. When it did, she looked up, her mask caught light at the right angle and shimmered.

"Miss Devvaux…" I called out to her, watching her let out a small exhales and started to stand from her position, "Don't, I'd sit anyway." Nodding, she went back to her place and gestured to the seat beside her. I sat a little closer to her than she wanted. My gaze followed her hands as she took out her wand and casted a silencing charm and notice-me-not over us.

"Lovely as ever Miss Devvaux." I complimented her, watching her hands twitch.

"I'm not here to play your games, Monsieur Riddle." I grin at her retort.

"Games?" I scoffed, "I don't like silly petty games _Hermione_ —"purring her name. "I wasn't the one out of bed after curfew last night."

"And as you are or have my eyes betrayed me? Clearly it is not the latter. I do remember the squeal your minions let out" she hissed viciously, like a snake cornered.

"The way I see it, you are the only one who have no authority to be out of bed beyond curfew especially that you have no permission to be wondering around the forbidden section of the library—"

"Enough, Riddle. I have no time for this ridiculous banter, when we both know no one is tattle-telling. So unless you think otherwise, please spare me the details and go ahead." I smirked at her quaint outburst. I nodded to her to continue.

She heave a deep sighed, "I know what you are and what you've done."

"…you know?" I arched my brow to her dangerously. "Pray tell, what is it that you've known that I've done?"

"I know you opened the chamber of secrets. I know where it is, what inside and who killed the girl." I glared at her dangerously, my wand dangled on my hand with my curse at the tip of my tongue.

"I'd be careful on what you utter next Miss Devvaux." I told her monotonously, my tone laid a heavy dangerous note.

"You thought nobody knew, but I know Riddle. That moment I saw you at the courtyard when you have greeted me. I knew everything about you." She declared.

Her screams vibrated through my ears like harps playing a lullaby as my Cruciatus curse ran through her body. She doubled over, convulsing and twitching as her body leaned towards me unintentionally. "Stop… please…"

"And why should I? You know things that could be used against me. Tell me now; why I shouldn't kill you here and dump your body in the forest behind us?" I sent another _Crucio_ as she clutched the hem of my robes, enduring the wave of pain washing over her body.

I pulled her enough to lay her head against my shoulders, cutting my curse as she struggled her breathing to stable, "I knew of these because I am seer." She said in between fits of coughing.

"A seer? You take me for a fool? Or should I say the truth for you, that you are Dumbledore's spy sent to ruined me like he always wanted."

She burst in laughter, "Me? Dumbledore's spy? Haha! I'd rather die than be that! No! I am no spy to that bastard."

"I came to Hogwarts to escape the inevitable discovery of my existence."

"Why would you reveal yourself to me if you are so keen to keep yourself invisible which by the way is failing miserably—at least to me."

"You forget I'm a seer," she scoffed, her head still leaning against my shoulders. "I saw the future you have and the fate that will become you and trust me it is not a very good one."

"I see," pocketing my wand in my robe.

"Last night, I was researching the library…"

"—ways to immortality? It's not hard to figure out with the kind of books you are sneaking around to read."

She glared at me, grabbing my right arm and practically shoving it in my face, "Stop this."

I snatched my hand back, glaring at her, while hiding away the Gaunt ring gracing my finger. "You are certainly not gaining any favors if you want to stop me with my plans." I scoffed at her.

"I don't intend to stop you… by all means, be immortal. All I'm saying is that the option you've chosen is wrong. I've seen it in my visions."

Sighing, "Say that I believe you and non-sense, what options you have in mind then? You do realize what is done cannot be undone."

"Nothing is to be done with that, I supposed. We can think of that as a plan B. For now, you should come with me to Romania during Winter Break."

"Romania?" I arched an eyebrow at her. She stood up to fix her uniform, signaling me to move out from her robe.

"There is someone we need to meet that would help. You want to rule the world, don't you? Then do as I say." I burst in fits of laughter. Me? Rule the world? It is almost so comical that she so eagerly supports my campaign. But I do like the sound of that.

I looked at her, as she looked at me with determined eyes. I contemplated her words bearing each syllables the weight of everything I have done so far. I smirked inwardly; she is a diamond in a rough.

"Fine then."

I removed the family ring from my finger, tagging her left arm as I knelt before her and forcefully made her wear my ring on her finger. "What's this?" She asked scandalously.

"If you want to stay in my good favor, make sure the ring stays on that finger."

Her bewildered look was delicious, "Are you proposing?"

I smirked at her, "A seer for a wife; a powerful one at that too. Isn't that wonderful?"

She gasped, horror filled her eyes as she stared at the ring I placed on her finger,"Do I get a say in this?" she hissed trying to pull out the ring, not that it would. I have put a spell on it, a sticky-spell the advance kind though.

"No, you don't." I stood up, straightening my robes and outstretching my hands for her to take; she glared at me when her attempts of pulling my ring off became futile. "You know what they say, keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

"I'm not your enemy." She declared as I put her hands entwine with mine. "Ah but you are." I told her as we walked back inside.

"The strongest are people who know other people's weakness, and you my dear hold my very own weakness."

"And what is that?"

"My past, present and future."

* * *

 _Dearest Aunt Jeanne,_

 _It has been a month now and still no word from you. My worry grows more with each passing day. I must apologize for being unable to write to you every day as I have promised, but rest assured my plans are going well or as well as I can hope them to be._

 _I am apparently engaged! And I'm lying to the very man I'm going to marry—by force—all for the small chance that the future will be different from my time. I think this is why fate has brought me here, at this time. To save everyone._

 _I know it is sudden but trust me, I am doing everything that I can to make a future._

 _I miss you,_

 _~Hermione._

* * *

 **Please leave a review on the chapter, comment on what you think about the turn-out of events. I would really like to know whether you guys like how I made Hermione specifically on these chapter, whether I'm going to fast or I need to slow it down, anything, I just really want to know.**


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